


Emmett's D.I.C.K.S.

by Saje



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saje/pseuds/Saje
Summary: Emmett has an idea.Not safe for work. HUGE humor warning! Do not drink around electronics while reading.





	Emmett's D.I.C.K.S.

 

 

 **D** ivinely **I** nventive **C** andles and **K** inky **S** oaps.

  


 

  


PROLOGUE

 

1996

 

It had started as a prank. It really had.

 

Emmett had received one of those stupid mold-your-own-dick kits as a gag prize at some ridiculous party he’d had the unfortunate indignity of being dragged to by Michael, shortly after moving in with him when his own apartment building had burned down. All night, Emmett had been pawed, hit on, ogled and regaled with comic book mumbo-jumbo by the biggest group of comic queers he’d ever had the misfortune to share oxygen with. It had been a nightmare. Michael was okay, but fifty other nuts with bolts loose just like him? All geeking out, quirking and drooling? Uhm, NO. Uh uh.

 

Soooo, a few days later, when Michael was unfortunate enough to get really high AND drunk with Brian, then pass out on the couch with his dick out, obviously in the middle of watching porn and rubbing one out? Emmett pulled out the gag prize and used it to take a mold of Michael’s bent little dick.

 

He didn’t really have a plan. Didn’t know what he would ever use it for. BUT, he decided he would save it. And keep it a secret.

 

Someday, Emmett told himself, someday he would have just cause to blackmail his Captain Astro-Glide roomie with it.

  


*********

1998

  


Brian’s was next and really it WAS a joke. Seriously! He wasn’t even in control of the situation THAT time.

 

The two of them were shopping for Ted’s birthday and it was Brian’s idea. Emmett wanted to get Ted a couple of club shirts at Torso but instead, Brian dragged him down the street in the rain to a sex shop, went straight to the molds, picked the most expensive one, hauled Emmett by the shoulder to the cashier, paid, and shoved the parcel into his arms before the Southerner could mutter a Bejeezus.

 

Firm fingers clamped around his upper arm, Emmett was manhandled back outside, all the way to Brian’s Jeep, driven to his office at Ryder, told not to utter a word about any of this on pain of death and steered into Brian’s inner sanctum where he was plunked into a plush leather chair to wait while Brian and the paper bag went into the bathroom.

 

Thirty minutes later, both returned, Brian snarking, “Give him what he’s always wanted... Me,” as he shoved Emmett bodily out the door.

 

Emmett didn’t do it of course. And Brian never asked, and Emmett never said, of course. So he saved it. And kept it a secret.

  


************

 

2003

  


You would think getting Ted’s would be the easiest since they were living together by that time, and sure enough getting him to agree had been a piece of cake, but by the time they had the actual mold in place, Ted had rubbed himself nearly raw in order to achieve his “biggest boner” and therefore complained when the goopy mold making stuff touched his  over sensitive man bits. Then he bitched that his pubes were stuck and being pulled, and all in all made a general pain in the ass out of himself until Emmett regretted asking him to do it for at least the next forty-eight hours. Especially since Ted decided he wanted to try it again, because he didn’t think it turned out as “accurate” as it could have been.

 

Sheesh!

 

Still, Emmett saved it. And, he kept it a secret.

 

********

 

2008

  


For Justin he had just shown up one day, out of the blue, about a week after Justin had turned twenty-five, with the mold in hand.

 

Justin answered the door covered in paint, brush still in his fingers.

 

“Hey, Baby, I might have an idea. Can I take a mold of your dick?” Emmett asked.

 

Justin shrugged. Emmett was always full of ideas. Some worked and some didn’t, but Justin would never be the one to stifle another person’s creativity.

 

When Justin never heard anything else about it, he figured whatever entrepreneurial ideas Emmett had had, had not panned out, so he’d not asked about it, so as not to hurt the his friend’s feelings.

 

Emmett had never offered an explanation and had therefore saved it, and kept it a secret.

 

******

  


By the time his collection was complete, he was keeping them in one of those fireproof boxes you get for important papers and documents. He had taped a piece of paper to the top, clearly labeled ‘TAXES’, so no Snooping Sallys could get their jollies, and left it in the bottom of his closet for when he finally had an idea of what he could do with the damn things.

 

*******

 

Spring 2017

 

So, Molly Taylor is getting married and none other than Emmett Honeycutt is the event coordinator. It made sense of course. He’d known the family since she was a child and been friends with her brother and mother for almost two decades. It didn’t hurt either that his business was the highest rated for the last three years running, a fact he gracefully demurred in public, but crowed over in the privacy of his own head. Take THAT!! Hazlehurst Mississippi!! He was so proud of himself for always being who he was and never giving in to the pressure from his family and hometown to hide his gayness and fit in. They were ashamed of him. Had always been ashamed of him.

 

But, never quite ashamed enough not to ask for or take his money.

 

Well, he had plans for that too.

 

He was always full of plans and ideas. And if his next one panned out, his family would forever be off his back, he could turn his Catering/Coordinating business over to his partner and retire from that adventure, living like a king on that income and the new business’ venture, if it took off well.

 

He rubbed his hands together in glee as he looked around Brian’s pristine loft awaiting his guests. Brian would shit cacti if he could see his precious, normally modern, loft. Everywhere you looked screamed girly decadence. Soft fabrics were draped everywhere, including his expensive Italian Moda furniture. Squishy fat throw pillows stacked and piled deep, pretty mood lamps with colored shades for accent lighting all around. Tiered trays with tiny edibles on convenient tables. Mimosas, champagne and flavored coffees. The place practically looked like an Ancient Ottoman Harem. Emmett’s smile grew wider.

 

Emmett went around to the much smaller space to the left of the bedroom and nearly behind the eating area. Most visitors to the loft never realized it was there since you didn’t see it till you were almost upon it and most never had a reason to move past the bedroom anyway. But today, Emmett was using it for his “store”. He checked all the baskets and displays in the twelve by twelve space one last time and called it good before helping himself to a mimosa and settling in at the kitchen island with the latest copy of The HomoCulture.

 

He’d only made it through the article titled Becoming the Power Bottom 101, when the first knock sounded at the big door. Tossing the magazine aside he went to the door, took a habitual calming breath, and slid it open.

 

Jennifer Taylor was as lovely as always, even in whiskered jeans and a sweater set. Next to her was an ancient woman, more wrinkled than a prune, and no more than four and a half feet tall,whom Jen introduced as her Savta, holding a Pomeranian. Immediately behind the pair was a stately woman, obviously Jen’s mother, as the resemblance was uncanny who smiled and politely offered her fingers for Emmett to hold while she said “You may call me Olivia.”

 

Savta snorted, squinted beady brown eyes behind her bejeweled spectacles and stage whispered, “Olive. I named her Olive. ‘Cause I craved ‘em so much when I was preggo with her.” The outspoken woman set down the even beadier eyed Pomeranian, then stepped around Emmett and made her way inside leaving a grinning Jen and a put upon looking Olivia in her wake.

 

Emmett gestured them in as he the elevator gears engaged and he could hear a gaggle of women chatting as they came up the steps. They all ended up hitting the third floor landing at the same time, so he smiled congenially, introduced himself, hugged Molly and Daphne - who was very roundly pregnant - and herded them all inside, sliding the big metal door closed behind them.

 

The female twittering increased in decibel as they found the refreshments and help themselves, laughing and teasing each other, taking turns rubbing Daphne’s belly and talking about the men that were notably absent.  They oohed and ahhed over the decorations and cooed over each other’s outfits. Emmett really liked the happy sounds women made. He couldn’t handle it in the long run, but for occasions like weddings and baby showers and such, it made him feel good. Mel and Lindsay came to each side of him with praise.

 

“Great turn out Em,” Mel said, sipping her champagne.

 

“The fabrics are lovely.” Lindsay simpered.

 

Emmett thanked them and asked if they would help usher the other women to the seating area so they could get started.

  
  
  
  


After making sure everyone had something to drink and Molly was seated in an armchair looking vaguely like a throne, Emmett shushed the twenty or so women and produced a pretty fabric covered, closed lidded box with a hole in the top and place it on her lap.

 

Looking over the group, he explained the rules, for the game. Molly would be the only one playing but it was sure to be fun to watch.

 

“I took a mold of Noah’s penis and made a dildo out of it.” Emmett said and waited for the giggles to die down as he handed a camcorder to Mel and she started filming, as he continued with the rules.  “You have to put your hand in the hole in the top and feel around in the contents for the penis you think is your intended’s”.

 

Molly blushed deeply, reminding many in the room of Justin. She bravely stuck her hand in the box, thinking it would be an easy  thing to do, to pick out Noah’s cock, being well acquainted with it after all, only to come across at least thirty different dicks in the box.

 

She paused.

 

She bit her lip.

 

She moved her hand around and took a little more care in feeling the different dildos inside to ascertain if she could pick his from the bunch.

 

Five minutes went by.

 

Savta harrumphed, gulping her champagne and Molly glared at her great gran and her yappy dog.

 

Jen gave a Kinney-esque smirk behind the rim of her coffee mug.

 

The bridesmaids started to twitter.

 

Molly blushed again.

 

She needed a plan.

 

She was a smart woman, she could figure this shit out.

 

The main problem, was that she was being recorded. If she came out with something too big or too small, the effect would be the same. Humiliation for Noah. The razzing would never end. For him, or for her. So, at the very least, she needed to come up with something very close in order to have plausible deniability.

 

So, her plan was to move everything she was SURE was not the right penis, to one end of the box and make her choice from what was left, but a frustrated few minutes later, she growled when she realized her Uncle Em had thought of that, and purposely made the box too small for that maneuver. She glared at him too.

 

Mel was now outright chuckling behind the camera and the others were whispering and cracking jokes about how hard it was for Molly to find her husband’s dick in the dark and Molly had enough.

 

She grabbed the first dick she knew wasn’t Noah’s, pulled it out of the hole in the lid and chucked it at the nearest heckler, hitting her in the midsection and making everyone laugh. Molly didn’t stop there, though. She kept going, rapid fire, throwing dildos like a howitzer, until she was left with only four in the box.

 

Since she could only fit in one hand at a time, she had to be careful now. She ran fingers over heads and down shafts, until she found the little mole she was looking for, made her selection, pulled it from the box, and crowed in victory when she found the wedding bell marking on its base. The room erupted in applause and laughter as drinks were refilled and snacks were eaten.

 

Molly finally smiled again.

 

That is, until Savta said “Only took her forty-five minutes for her to find what takes her less than thirty seconds every night.”

 

Molly blushed, Jen smirked, Olivia rolled her eyes, and the rest of the women giggled. The Pomeranian pissed on the floor.

  


********

  


Molly was irritated. They had settled in to open presents, which usually made her very happy. She loved presents. Except Emmett had announced that she had to remove the ribbons without breaking them. For every ribbon she broke, she would have one child. Hence, if she broke two ribbons, two children, twelve ribbons, twelve children, and so forth.

 

Bollocks to that! Molly wanted NO children. Snotty, drippy, stinky, messes. She wanted to travel and work. Fuck and frolic.

 

So, even though she didn’t believe in old wive’s tales, she was careful not to break any ribbons. But as more and more packages were passed to her, the ribbons got more prolific and the bows became knots that were pulled tighter and tighter. The mimosas flowed, the laughter bubbled, Molly struggled with the present on her lap that held no less that six ribbons around its girth pulled as tight as Miss Scarlett’s corset at the Twelve Oaks Barbeque.

 

Emmett held back his laughter at the now sweating blond as he fed the trailing ends of previously extricated ribbons through the center of a paper plate, adding bows to the top in a sickly cheap parody of a wedding bouquet.

 

Molly, deciding whatever was in the box had to be an article of clothing given the size and shape was therefore safe, started smashing the box rather than breaking the ribbons. The room burst into hooting laughter then raucous catcalls as she finally disengaged the present of crotchless undies and a nippleless nightie. Whereupon she was presented with the last present, which was virtually “wrapped” in approximately three rolls of that tiny Christmas ribbon meant for curling and so cheap it was guaranteed to break.

  


Daphne rubbed her huge belly and chortled in devilish glee. “Sorry Molls, I couldn’t resist. You're the only little sister I ever had.”

 

Molly wanted to be mad. She really did. But in truth, Daphne was the only sister she had too. So, covering her eyes with one hand, she held out the other, palm up and waited.

 

When Emmett filled it, she used the scissors to cut every single ribbon on the box at least once to the merriment of the crowd as they counted out loud.

 

One hundred seventy one.

 

Molly smiled. A big sunshiney smile. The number was so inconceivably high, it could NEVER happen.

 

She was safe from snotty, stinky, messy, mini-tyrants.

  


***********

 

Emmett set the camera on a tripod and announced the next game was for everyone.

 

He brought out another pretty box and set it on the table so everyone could see inside. By now, Emmett figured they were all pretty lubricated with alcohol, so this next game should be pretty fun as inhibitions should be a bit lowered.

 

He figured he was right when manicured and well-ringed hands immediately began to pull out very large individually wrapped penis pops and passing them around until everyone had one.

 

He had to stop them quickly though, before they started just chowing away, so he could give them the rules. Eyes went wide and lips pouted at having been stopped mid porny treat.

 

“Ladies, if you notice, each sucker has a ‘ruler’ down the side. We are ladies here, so we will be orderly and do this one at a time. I will keep score. Whoever deep throats the most length, gets a very special prize to take home with her. Molly you get to go first.”

 

Competition and avarice gleamed on half drunk faces as the mood shifted from fun to serious.

  


“OH, one more thing, If you gag or throw up, you lose.” Said Emmett.

 

A couple of shoulders slumped, but tits were rearranged, jaws were flexed and the room went so quiet you could hear a mouse fart.

 

Molly picked up her ‘Pop’ and reached a respectable 7 ¼”.

 

The next two, who’d had too much to drink, gagged and lost, but continued licking their suckers.

 

Simply by circumstance, the younger crowd had been sitting together to Molly’s left, and all either gagged or came in around her score. As expected.

 

The older crowd, which Emmett couldn’t wait to watch, and was thinking of specifically when he made up this game, were seated to her right. The first up was Jen. Not surprisingly, Jen took nearly ten inches with ease as Emmett knew she’d gone to Brian for lessons some time ago. Tucker was known to be very well endowed.

 

When it was Olivia’s turn (Emmett snickered in his head and secretly dubbed her Olive Oyl) she pursed her lips in distaste and pretended not to know what she was doing, then proceeded to swallow nine and a half as if she was being paid for it in a wharfside alleyway at three in the morning, deep into December.

 

The younger crowd rose to their feet and cheered, prompting Olivia to give a queenly wave and set the ‘pop’ delicately on the edge of her plate and off to the side, out of sight.

 

The Pomeranian took the opportunity of unattended food, snatched it away and ran off to the corner to enjoy his bounty.

 

Lindsay was next, sure that she had a good chance at winning since she’d blown Brian’s considerable assets all those years ago. She drained the last of her mimosa, refrained from allowing the smugness from showing on her face, and wrapped her lips around her sucker as Emmett leaned in to watch her progress. She pushed as far as she dared, until she sucked air through her nose in a snort and yanked the pop out before it could turn into a gag and took note of Emmett’s pad of paper. She visibly deflated and Mel outright guffawed when he announced Lindsay’s score at nine inches even.

 

Savta snorted, pushed her glasses to the top of her head, stood up and said “Watch this.” She then proceeded to bend at the waist, bobbing over her sucker, deep throating the entire time and hitting the ten inch mark consistently, while the younger women stomped their feet and shouted “Go Savta, Go Savta!” and startling the dog so much, that his whole body jerked and he got his stolen sucker stuck in the fur on top of his head making him look like some weird, porny, dog/unicorn trembling and pissing in the corner.

 

Olivia covered her face in embarrassment, whispering chastisements at her mother wishing she would be more circumspect. Savta was having none of that bullshit though. She was who she was, and she would make no apologies for it. She asked the room at large, “How the fuck do you think I made it out of Europe ahead of the Nazis and not into the camps when my family was so poor, you ungrateful twat?”

 

The room erupted again with hilarity and this time, it was quite a while before Emmett could get them to calm down, because several were taking turns doing Savta imitations, including Daphne, who looked uproariously funny, bobbing over a dick, at thirty nine weeks pregnant and asking people which way the border was and could she blow them for a ride.

 

Olivia finally cracked a smile at that and the scared dog trotted over to his owner with the sucker dick bouncing on his head. Savta made no effort to remove it. Just watched the dog keep trying to lick it, even though it was just out of reach of its little pin byk tongue.

  


Emmett went to give Savta her prize when she shook her head and shoved it away. “Ain’t done yet, Twinkle-Toes.” She said, tipping her head in Mel’s direction.

 

Emmett glanced down at his notes and sure enough, Mel’s name was missing. In all the commotion he hadn’t noticed, and she tried to beg off till Savta interjected. “You’re the lawyer right?”

 

Mel nodded.

 

“Well you’ll pardon me, but so was my Hiram. Cocksuckers all of you. Never met a one that wasn’t. So get to it girly, and don’t give me no lip about you not liking dick. If you can lick a pussy and get the job done, then you can suck a cock.” Savta  demonstrated by sticking out her tongue, thrusting and wagging it, leaving NOTHING to the imagination.

 

Emmett was sure he would have nightmares.

 

When the thick appendage disappeared, Savta said to the now silent room, “What, you think Europe was only inhabited by men at the time?” only to have the screaming laughter resume until mascara was running and they were all gasping for their next breath.

 

“Je-sus. Just give me the damn thing. Mel snarled jokingly, snatching an unopened pop from Emmett’s pretty box and tearing off the wrapper. She braced her feet shoulder width apart and started by slowly licking the sucker all over and smearing it well with saliva. Then, in a practiced move, she held it by the little white stick at the bottom, tipped her head all the way back and thrust the cock down her throat like a sword swallower at a circus side-show, pulled it out once, pushed it back in for effect, all the way to the base (measuring a full foot), pulled it out and took a bow.

 

“Like I said, a cocksucker.” Savta said, sagely.

 

Mel bowed once more in her direction to acknowledge her wisdom and grinned cheekily at the now completely soused and loudly rowdy crowd. She rolled on the balls of her feet, a little giddy in excitement for winning. She had never shown anyone that particular talent as she’d hidden it since the eighth grade magic show and the boys had started suggesting what she could do with it.

 

Emmett had new respect for his friend and sashayed over to offer her the gift bag with her prize in it. She squealed like a little girl and did a little happy dance when she de-gift-bagged a homemade jar of big ‘ol pickles. She had practically lived on the things when she’d been pregnant with her daughter and was constantly begging Emmett to make them for her.

She threw her arms around the much taller man’s neck and pulled him down into her hug. “How did you know I’d win?”

 

She could feel his smile against the side of her face as sure as she could feel the raw silk of his shirt under her hand. “Like Savta, I had a feeling.” He replied, then asked. “What does Savta mean, anyway?”

 

Mel laughed once, hard, and let him go. “It means, Badass Grandma.”

 

Emmett grinned and shrugged as if to say, ‘of course it does.’

  


********

  


Due to the various bouts of hilarity, sidetracked-ness, and overall woman-ness, of the situation, Emmett was a little dismayed to find they were running about an hour behind schedule.  Not that anyone seemed to mind, or that he had anywhere else he needed to be, but still, it chafed a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t have allowed the alcohol right away? Maybe he should take it away now? That would seem a little parental wouldn’t it? Or at the very least, judgemental?

 

Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound, his Aunt Lulah used to say as he helped himself to another glass of the bubbly stuff and started the last game.

 

He waited while glasses were again refilled and another puddle of pee was mopped up. Emmett was just grateful that there had not been a poo pile yet.

 

He decided to take them five at a time and lined up five chairs, ushering random women into the seats and blindfolding them.

 

He then set up the camera again. “I will hold a scented candle under your nose and you will tell me, from the smell, which man in Molly’s life, it represents. The woman that guesses the most right, wins.”

 

Emmett produced yet another beautiful box and did, indeed, pull out a candle. But, what the contestants could not see, was that it too, was shaped like a dick. The rest of the women, even the ones that had managed to maintain their mascara, lost the battle in that moment. It took at least another fifteen minutes to contain the comedy, especially when Daphne had taken off running for the bathroom she had to pee so bad, only to be nearly mowed over by Savta and the yappy Pomeranian. There was not a single dry eye in the house. The line for the bathroom grew and the blindfolded contestants gave up and threw off their blinders in a huff thinking they were the butt of some joke, only set everyone off again when they spied the colorful scented candles shaped like cocks.

 

At that point, no one bothered with glasses anymore and started drinking the champagne straight from the bottle. ‘Olivia’ was caught in the bedroom with the entire carafe of mimosas and Emmett did finally find the doo-doo.

 

In Brian’s favorite pair of Prada loafers.

 

Someone had turned on the radio and the younger crowd had pulled Savta into a gyrating mass of dancing that was soon to get out of hand if Emmett didn’t do something quick.

 

Like right NOW!

 

He hurried to the radio and turned it off, eliciting a bunch of groans and murmurs of ‘party pooper’ before clapping his hands for their attention.

 

“Ladies, if I could have your attention. Over in the corner, I have something you may like. I know how you all like to shop, so I set up a little store, with some of the things you saw here today. Or, you can use your smartphones and go to Emmett’sDICKS.com and shop the full website.”

 

At the word shop, the room had gone quiet, as he’d suspected it would, so he followed up  with, “Oh, the full name is Emmett’s Divinely Inventive Candles and Kinky Soaps.”

 

Since they had all stopped, iced in their tracks like Hans in the movie Frozen, Emmett made his way around them to his little ‘store’ and explained the basics. The scented dick shaped candles, the dildos in all shapes and colors, the penis pops,  the homemade pickles, the beautiful boxes, cock shaped soaps on ropes and so forth. Then he went on to explain pricing. How the more you bought, the more you got for free.

 

And that is when it happened.

 

Mass pandemonium.

 

He was first engulfed in a wave of inebriated female bodies then hustled through the throng and finally shit out the backside of the group as they shoved, jostled, shouted, and fought over his wares. They picked up things they liked and tucked them into the crooks of their elbows and when their arms were full, chose the pretty boxes and started stuffing.

 

Emmett made himself at home at Brian’s dining table with his trusty laptop and was not at all surprised when Savta was the first to emerge with each product in the bonus pack variety and the most ‘free’ items. He refrained from making a comment on her ethnicity and happily swiped her charge card through the reader to the tune of almost five hundred dollars and gallantly bagged and carried her purchases back to her seat where she rummaged through them for the the multipack of various sized and multi-colored dildos.

 

When he came back to the table the women were three deep, waiting to ‘check out’ and he spent the next hour doing just that. Then he sat and answered questions about the products and watched as the women opened them and played with them and passed them around. All the while continuing to drink.

 

******

 

Debbie was only too happy to be included in the Bachelor side of the evenings entertainment as she was much closer to her ‘Lost Boys’ than she was to the females in the wedding party.

 

 

That said, she looped one arm through Brian’s and the other through Carl’s as the three of them squished into the last seat in the limo with Justin. Brian had rented all of them tuxedos with tails, top hats, spats on their shoes and white gloves, promising a very interesting evening that they would never forget.

 

They arrived at a nondescript brick building whose doors were guarded by two very large men dressed in black suits and wireless earpieces. Their group was led down a hall, plushly carpeted in deep red, to huge mahogany pocket doors that opened as soon as they arrived. Inside was a very large dining room with a decent sized stage lining one wall and an antique bar lining the other. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting glittering light from their hundreds of candles. Only three tables were set for dinner. Brian turned to his friends and guests. “Noah, Justin and I wanted to give you and Molly the wedding of your dreams so you could start off as happy as we are. She made two stipulations for this evening. That there would be no lap dances, and that you did not come home drunk. So, I have brought us all to the poshest speakeasy in town. Order what you like, the food is excellent and enjoy the show.”

 

Noah blushed and nodded his thanks, taking a table with his groomsmen. Justin, Brian and the gang arranging themselves between the other two. Chippendale waiters came to take their drink and dinner orders as the diners conversed and shared stories of old times and made toasts to the bride and groom. Debbie, of course, fit right in, looking downright stunning in her tuxedo and tipping her hat flirtatiously at the waiters. The gay men among the gang ogled and the straight ones blushed and studied their entrees but no one complained the food and drink were that good and the company and conversation were superb.

 

As dessert came around the lights dimmed and the stage lit. Music started and the Chippendales began their show that was soon integrated with a phenomenal Burlesque troupe. It was raucous and rowdy. The bass was deep and pumping. Before long the guests were all on their feet clapping and whistling approval for the performers who were dripping sweat  over an hour later when it was all over.

 

Brian invited them all down for after dinner drinks and cigars to show his appreciation and the bartender was shocked when the dancers agreed and even more shocked when they stayed for another hour yucking it up with complete strangers and seeming to be enjoying themselves.

 

The straight men ogled tits and ass, and the gay men studiously looked away or kept their eyes on their brandy glasses and cigars.

 

All in all, it was probably the ‘nicest’ (and most expensive), genteel,  bachelor party any of them had ever been to.

 

They had such a good time that they talked about it all the way back to Brian’s loft to pick up their women, certain that they had not had near the good time that the men had had. They were still talking about it as they trooped as a group  up the stairs, as the elevator wasn’t working for some reason.

 

Brian hit the third floor landing first and was distracted by the incessant  pinging of the emergency stop on the elevator. Upon investigation, he found an eight inch turquoise with blue glitter silicone dildo wedged in the frame in such a way the the carriage would not descend and triggering the shut off alarm.

 

He snatched up  the offending toy and the elevator immediately engaged and disappeared. Sticking it under his armpit, he dug for his keys while the rest of the group achieved the landing and started to mill about. He unlocked the door and slid it open, habitually taking two steps inside without looking.

 

And that is when IT happened.

 

He was hit in the head by a twelve inch black dildo and bumped into from behind by Michael when he hadn’t realized Brian had stopped moving forward. Brian landed on his ass, both dildos in his lap and Michael had a speeding Pomeranian headed his way.

 

The shorter man tried to back up, but the crowd from the hall couldn’t see what was happening and pressed forward. Brian scrabbled backward against the kitchen island as a sea of spats filled his vision. Then he looked up at what had caught his attention in the first place.

 

Women everywhere, shoving dicks of all sizes and colors in each others faces, saying “smell this one, does it smell like Ted to you?” or “MMM this one smells like Carl, you have to try it” as some young twenty something sniffed a purple dick, closed her eyes in bliss and hugged it to her chest.

 

Or, conversely, a wrinkled old lady said, “I don’t like the little pink bent dick” as she tossed it to the dog (what the fuck was a dog doing in his loft anyway?) when it ran past her, which it caught in its yappy little fucking maw on its way to Michael. What the fuck was on its head anyway? Where it promptly started humping his leg making the thing on its head bounce, gnawing on the bent little dick, then pissed on his shoe.

 

Justin helped Brian to his feet as more men filtered in and took in the scene. Debbie shouldered her way through and couldn’t hold back the chuckles of irony. A clearly inebriated Jen wobbled to her, barefooted, carrying a ten inch peach colored  cock candle which she held under her nose and sniffed like a teen with a sharpie and fucking giggled. “It’s my Tuck. Smell.” she whispered as she shoved it in Debbie’s direction so awkwardly that she had to pull her head back or lose an eye. Jen lost her balance, only to be caught up by Tucker as he swung her up into his arms and told her it was time to go. “But Molly hasn’t thrown the bouquet yet.” the cougar pouted to her boy toy, kissing his ear and petting his face with his own cock.

 

That statement seemed to trigger some female DNA code, because every unattached woman in the room stopped what they were doing, looked at Molly, scouted the cheap parody bouquet, and sized up the available men in the room in less than three seconds flat before clamoring for her to do just that.

 

Now that they were all standing relatively still, the men could get a better look at them. It wasn’t pretty. Not at all. They were a drunken, sweaty, mess. Makeup was mostly rubbed or sweated off ( with the notable exception of drippy mascara raccoon eyes). Hair was no longer tamed and presentable. No way. It was now hanging in tangled, limp strands or something akin to nests made by homeless mammals. The men had no idea what the fuck had gone on in the loft while they were away, but by the hormonal gleam shining right now in every woman’s eyes, they were sure they did NOT want to go home with any of them.

 

Brian looked around as Molly climbed onto his sofa and was really fucking glad he didn’t like pussy. Justin reached out and clasped his hand in solidarity. Molly threw the bouquet. Carl caught it.

 

Emmett collected his laptop and slipped out the door.

  
  


                             The End

  
  


Cock Candle Name           Scent

  


Brian                               beam

Justin                              paint

Emmett                           citrus and cloves

Ted                                 vanilla pudding

Michael                           french fries

Ben                                 Cotton

Drew                               musk?

Tucker                              leather

Noah                               chocolate

Carl                                 donuts

 


End file.
